


Beyond Resetting

by Void_Home



Series: Reset? You can't. This is your life now. [1]
Category: Code Lyoko
Genre: Branding, Dissociation, Multi, Other, Psychological Torture, Self-Harm, Slavery, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-27
Updated: 2018-02-21
Packaged: 2018-10-24 13:01:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10742214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Void_Home/pseuds/Void_Home
Summary: Sometimes, you give up.Sometimes, you lose hope.Sometimes, you have someone to hope for you.It is never easy on the gang, when half are in cages, and the rest are in hiding, waiting.XANA never made things easy.





	1. Breakaway

His head hurt so bad, and honestly, his throat felt like it was on fire. What had happened? He couldn't recall, beyond the dulling pain in his back.  
William found he didn't want to know. He lets his mind fade back into the comfortable nothingness that he'd been swimming in prior, a stronger mind carefully draping over his own to give him cover. To keep him safe from whatever had harmed him so harshly to cause this. He found he didn't mind the subsisting. It was not something he would fight, as it kept him safe. Sure, it meant he couldn't keep others safe, but surely, he'd done enough of that on his own. They could defend themselves for a while, and handle the torment of the AI.

William lay on his side in his cell, staring blankly outward from his place against the wall where the orderlies had thrown him. The smell of burnt flesh radiated out from him, and it took a striking amount of time to realize just where the smell was coming from. Him. It was from his back, skin burnt to a crisp to place a brand there that he wanted nothing to do with. A brand to the entity that tortured him and his friends. Tortured the kids that called the cell block home now. If he could, he'd go back and remove the harm that had been done to him. Maybe he would've remained in the cell rather than let the others convince him to leave, that maybe they would be capable of escaping. Of course they weren't. He was too strong. Their strongest fighter beaten past thought and behind the bars of his cell. They stood no chance against the AI, he'd accepted that for a long time, simply letting the thing do as it wished while he tried to spare others from harm, or, express harm.  
By the time they'd gotten this far, it was far beyond saving, in his mind. Of course, Yumi -fighter that she was- still believed in the hopes that they'd be able to escape. Ulrich and him had banished that foolish idea ages ago. Of course, William had given up entirely, but Ulrich still held hope. Would be willing to go if the chance presented itself and it was fool proof. That hadn't happened that often, though.  
A tray of food skittering down just into sight distracts him from pondering, and William stares at it, the mishmash of food on it a stark reminder of the facts. They were slaves. He didn't even get fed anymore, it all depended on the mercy of the other kids that he would get any food. That realization bristles something in him, and he can feel the bitterness engulf him as he kneels on shaky limbs. Everything hurt, but he was starving and planned to eat something, anything. It was a step to recovery, surely. One step at a time.  
It all comes eventually. His trembling hands dip out between the bars and drag it carefully under, hunching over it to examine the contents. Two small loaves of bread. a single very bruised apple. Some... Meat. Of some kind. It was hard to tell with food here, some had mold on it, some looked half rotten. It could be anything. He doesn't think about it, shakily ripping one loaf and beginning to eat. His stomach roils. William feels ready to vomit it back up almost immediately, but does not allow himself to, just keeps going slowly. Only when he's done eating everything does he let himself think, staring at the empty tray.  
With a single move he swings the tray out of his cell, watching it clatter into the wall aside from his cell. His eyes catch the stunned orbs of another kid and he stares back for a moment, expression blank for the longest time.

 

  
Then,  
He grins.

 

The kid shivers, unsure how to react to the act.

Dunbar hadn't smiled like that in a long, long time.


	2. A plan is what he needed

Difficulty moving is common here. Especially among those who fought back. A broken leg as punishment. Completely shattered shin. It wasn’t pretty, but it was efficient. He knew that one personally. That was the reason someone was screaming profusely in the distance, he thinks. That, or torture. He does his best to ignore it, rolling onto his side and staring at the bars, studying the disgusted face in the only cell he could see, and even then he couldn’t see their whole face. He decided simply that it was probably gross, whatever was happening. William turned his body and eased himself along the floor, leaning against the bars to try and peer down.

All he could see that way though, was fresh blood. He thinks about that as he stares at the blood, watching shadows dance over it. He wanted to be strong again. To prevent all this. He’s not sure how long he sits there, staring blindly. He is aware when the world snaps back into focus and he can think again, the blood is  _ dry _ . That was an odd thing to focus on as he came back to awareness. But it was what he homed in on. The blood was dry, and someone was looking at him. It takes William a time to focus on the person, head tilting a bit. It’s Ulrich. There was an expression on Ulrich’s face that he wasn’t sure how to parse. Was it pity? Regret for the situation?

It came to him after a while of staring. Sadness. Ulrich was  _ sad  _ while staring at him. Disgusting.  He almost felt bad for him. That he felt so intensely still, and for  _ him _ of all people. The expression he makes in return, something so simple as a downturn of his lips seems to startle Ulrich. It takes him a few moments of frowning at him to realize it’s because he’d been broken for so long. Ulrich probably had nearly forgotten when he’d actually emoted last. Beyond when he was screaming in agony.

But that didn’t really count. 

He shares one final look with Ulrich before turning away and pulling himself back out of Ulrich’s sight range. Then William sits there, staring at the wall before he actually  _ thinks _ . XANA had to be waiting for something from him. Was it just that he  _ broke _ so hard? Was that at the branding? Had XANA expected him to snap then, become something else? Clearly not what he had wanted. But maybe… Maybe he could act. The clarity in his mind isn’t complete, there’s the halved state, one half of him-the true him?- barely conscious, traumatized, broken. And then there was  _ him _ , to keep both of them safe. He was stronger now, something to hide behind as he recovered from hot metal trauma.

That was how the plan started, and continued forming, acting, fakery. Hours pass and he lays back against the bed nook, head lolled back and overgrown-he should cut that, but he wouldn’t be able to- hair a mess that was greasy and caked with dry blood from months of abuse. It would take more than he was able to see and he knew that. It might take more than he had to give, too. His leg was barely recovered from getting utterly smashed and he wasn’t completely sure that it would ever function as well as it did before. Then he had to consider anything XANA might have done when he wasn’t aware. Which included whatever he’d put in his neck. The tracker was in his hip after the first few months where he’d try to escape, XANA had put it where he knew he couldn’t dig it out without ending up in excruciating agony. That was when he could still feel most pain, of course… He could probably tear it out now, if he wanted.

He doesn’t. He needs to bide his time and play whatever part XANA thought he’d take. If he could just get  _ out _ of this prison… He could help. 


End file.
